Tears of The El Lady
by Villamvihar
Summary: Ruben was a small, peaceful village only famous for Yssiran's Tree. Said to have been blessed by the El Lady herself, it transformed a barren wasteland into a bountiful forest through the El's light. What happens then, when its most precious treasure is stolen, robbing it of its power? The world weeps while the gears of destiny turn and herald the end of peace.


**Author's Notes: This is my take on the story of Elsword. I know that the characters are not exactly their canonical selves and that I changed the lore, but overall, I feel that these serve my purpose quite well. I don't want to present the exact story of the game or the side materials, but instead, I want to take the time to construct a beautiful world with a beautiful story. I hope I manage to live up to your expectations! Even if I do not, please feel free to leave a comment or a review on the story.  
**

 **Regards,**  
 **VVR.**

This was the most difficult fight of Elsword's life. The opponent was vicious, unforgiving, relentless and tireless. No matter how much the young man tried to impale them with his sword, they kept making unpredictable strikes. He either had to dodge all of them or risk serious injury, but at the same time, he could not do that lest he be forced into an even more indefensible position. His back was already at a metaphorical wall he was not willing to give. Therefore, the only sensible move was for him to press the offensive, even though it made no sense against an enemy much more skilled than he was.

Nevertheless, the next slash he ducked under did not force him to lose ground. Instead, Elsword took a brave step forward and ended up within his opponent's guard. In turn, their eyes widened as the nature of their game was forced to change to such a degree that the young man could feel victory boil in his blood. This was his chance! All of a sudden, Elsword's lacklustre hold on his sword slipped completely, then he switched to a reverse grip for a more convenient angle of attack. Metal screeched on metal as the edge of his weapon met solid steel rings without making too much of an injury. Yet just as the sweet scent of triumph was about to overwhelm his senses, a very cold and very real blade met the nape of his neck.

Disappointment flooded his veins all of a sudden. The sixteen-year-old young man felt his grip slacken on his sword and it fell to the ground with a loud clatter. Firey red eyes looked upon the weapon with contempt before fingers rose to move a couple of crimson red locks out of their sight. He had failed the test again. From the quizzical look on his opponent's face, Elsword knew that he was expected to react differently, but how could he have done that? He had aimed for victory, yet he only managed a draw at best. A loss at worst, if he was honest with himself. That strike at his neck would have been instantly fatal while impalement had a reasonable chance of survival provided that it was treated in time. All in all, he still had a long way to go.

"Elsword?" asked his opponent. "Why aren't you celebrating your victory?" In response, the young man looked up at the knight and paused. That could be hardly called a victory now, could it? His incredulousness must have shown on his face, because the man in front of him gave a laugh. "Don't you give me that face. Did you take a look at where you got me?" asked Lowe as the mirth reached his eyes. Elsword shook his head dumbly, which gave his former opponent an even better reason to smile. He was not smiling at his loss, realised Elsword as he saw the expression on the man's face and he immediately took tally of the last attack in the battle.

"I stabbed you through the heart, old man!" exclaimed Elsword all of a sudden as adrenaline rushed through his veins. Lowe laughed heartily.  
"You'd have stabbed me through the heart if you were using a real blade," corrected Lowe, but that was hardly a detraction from Elsword's achievement. "Way to go, kid."  
"I'm not a kid anymore," protested the recipient without any anger in his voice. In response, Lowe's smile furthered into a full-on grin, barely visible because of the helmet he was wearing. This was not something he had been expecting out of his apprentice.  
"Take the rest of the day off, kid," he said as he fiddled with the various straps on his equipment to get it off, making a show of seeming tired as he moved his limbs. In particular, he deliberately slowed the movements of his fingers, which caused Elsword's enthusiasm to glow even brighter. If such a thing was possible, that is.

"Really?" asked the young man with shining eyes. "I can still take it, y'know!"  
"Yes, really," answered Lowe as he took off his helmet to reveal his visage. The contrast between these two was quite stark, really. On the left side of the battlefield was Lowe with at least ten years of experience and thirty years of life behind his back. He was the very picture of a knight who had seen countless battles with steel grey eyes that reflected his many scars. His hair, once a charming chocolate brown, was marred by grey locks born of countless brushes with death. And while his angular, strong features may have been handsome some time ago, they were now a touch too harsh.

In contrast, Elsword was a lanky teenager about half his size. His body was showing the signs of his training, but he was still very clearly growing up. His youthful face, unscarred and still soft with some gentle slopes to it, was crowned by a short, red hair which matched crimson eyes. He was still vibrant with life, his posture filled with hope for the future. His shoulders were straight, his head was held upright. He could have been brushed away by a single strike of Lowe's, yet the spark inside him was unmistakable. It was almost the same as one he had seen a couple of years ago.

"Awesome!" The teenager's shout along with the sound of falling armour pieces broke the knight's reverie all of a sudden. In Elsword's excitement, he almost tore everything his body without regard for the equipment's condition. Or those who would have to clean up after him. He deliberately pretended not to hear Lowe's exasperated order to get back there and put the things away properly, but he suspected his teacher would not mind it. After all, he had just beaten Lowe hands down! Ruben's strongest warrior bested by a mere trainee of sixteen years!

Actually, it was Ruben's second strongest warrior, Elsword reminded himself as his steps slowed and he let his lungs catch up with his need for air. He had sprinted quite a distance from the village's training ground so that he could get away from whatever exercises Lowe planned to sic on him next. And it was not as if he was shirking his daily training or anything, no. Lowe had given explicit permission to do this, therefore it was all right to take a break, rest his muscles for a while, then go wash himself. No, it had nothing to do with Elsword's absolute, utter exhaustion after he had pushed himself to the limit in that fight. Nor did it had to do anything with the colourful ribbons being hung onto a nearby house's façade.

Elsword smiled at the familiar patterns of various blues and reds entwining with each other as if they were vines. In a way, they reflected the forest which surrounded the village. From another perspective, they were payment to the spirits for the lands given up to the people. The red-haired teenager liked to think that it was the first one, because he found the atmosphere of massive trees to be relaxing. Therefore, it was no surprise he found himself lost looking at the branches far above him, wondering what it would be like to be amongst them. He allowed a couple of moments to be spent like that, then he shook his head to clear it.

He really could not fault himself for pausing, though, because the village was always beautiful in the summer. The rays of the Sun penetrated the foliage in just the right amounts to cast light on the rustic, simple houses. Made from wood as it was the tradition, they would have blended into the massive trees had it not been for their bright decorations. The various, unique patterns were meant to guide the workers back to their homes. The ribbon which Elsword spotted earlier was also a part of that. No two were completely alike, just like the houses they decorated.

From small, one-person dwellings which joined to the paved road with a thin strip of stone to larger buildings which housed families, they did not follow any building plan. Some were shoddily assembled from flimsy panels, others were sturdier because they were composed of interlocking logs while the rest were literally carved into trunks of ancient trees. Outsiders may have dismissed them as shoddy craftsmanship or a lack of forethought, but for Elsword, they were still beautiful things. By now, he could have greeted everyone inside them by name without as much as glancing at the people. And he rather liked it this way, with people waving to him while he passed them by.

He did not waste the opportunity to brag about his earlier accomplishment and as usual, people seemed to eat up his words. Some of them, especially the elders were positively delighted to hear about the news while the rest watched with amusement before they sent the teenager on his way. They explained to him that while stories of excitement were always welcome, they were better received when they were delivered by someone who did not smell like sweat. Elsword flushed in embarrassment and ran off to save his dignity, much to the amusement of those watching the scene.

A thorough bath, a fresh set of clothes and a healthy meal of spiced meat later, Elsword found himself at a loss for what to do. His training was already done for the day. The villagers did not need any help yet, because the harvest season has not begun and he was not scheduled for a patrol today. Merchants would not be coming with wares today either, the blacksmith was out of iron for the moment, Lowe would just put him through the grinder and the village chief would just tell him to go to Lowe. He would rather not have that, thank you very much!

Therefore, the only remaining thing for him to do was to check on Yssiran's Tree. He knew that it would be completely pointless, but at least it would give him something to do. Resigning himself to his fate, he started on the journey he could have navigated with his eyes closed. He was half-tempted to do so just for the challenge of it, but the rational part of his mind insisted that he needed to see where he was going. And that he did not want to be ridiculed on such a bright day. As such, he followed the familiar rood, putting one foot in front of another with each step.

What was he hoping to find there, really? He visited the tree every week when he had free time, and he rarely, if ever found anything interesting other than the overwhelming silence. Supposedly, it was a place perfect for meditation or soul-searching, but any time Elsword tried that, he ended up falling asleep. Then the village chief scolded him for drooling onto sacred ground. But perhaps today would be different. Perhaps today, being a day of unprecedented triumph would make something happen. Perhaps he would meet a distant pilgrim. Or perhaps, he would finally see that promise fulfilled.

Suddenly, he felt a jolt along the surface of his skin and a horrible, dreadful feeling sunk into his heart. Crimson red eyes widened as a shot of undiluted terror claimed his body, a foreboding emotion which twisted his stomach into a tight, painful knot. Rather than succumb to it, however, Elsword forced his legs to pick up speed, dashing through the forest with surprising speed. The fatigue from earlier just fled his system as if it had not been there in the first place even as the world around him slowly started to fade. The air became stuffy, smelling as if he was standing in front of a mass grave.

Then, a lifeless, grey leaf fell from one of the branches, dancing in front of his eyes as it descended in the windless stillbirth of this area. He stared at it for a split second between two steps before he increased his speed and desperately wished that he was wrong. The pavement almost cracked underneath his steps as he ignored all of the village's unspoken rules and the closer he got, the more terror coiled around his heart. Where was the ethereal light of Yssiran's Tree? The soft sound of its massive leaves brushing against each other? The strange feeling of magic in the air? The forest animals? A look aside and he could see none of these things. The forest had turned into a lifeless menagerie of trees.

He only came to a halt when the worst of his fears came true. Bug-eyed, Elsword's features were distorted into an expression that mixed disbelief with a heart-rending realisation: the large, man-sized hollow in the trunk of Yssiran's Tree was empty. The El Stone which resided in there had been stolen.


End file.
